The Devil's Revival
by LauraMaeH94
Summary: "Pain. It is at a molecular level. It is all consuming. And fear. Pain, and fear." When someone attacks Jane, with a promise to return, how will she cope? And what happens when her worst nightmares turn into reality? Dark story. TRIGGER WARNING: Rape, sexual assault and possibly self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is going to be a dark story. It contains mentions of rape, and possibly self-harm, some of which may include graphic description. I will include a specific trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: NON-DESCRIPT MENTIONS OF RAPE/ASSAULT**

Pain.

It is at a molecular level.

It is all consuming.

And fear.

Pain, and fear.

Fear unlike she has felt in a long time.

It propels her.

She moves.

It is far from easy.

The world around her comes in flashes, sights and sounds crashing into her sproadically.

The moments in between are blank.

She starts in the Gardens, groggily rolling to her back, a threat still alive in her mind.

Her vision blurs as she sits.

There's a gap, then she is stumbling forward, instinct driving her movements.

The pain is worse now, and she can barely see through the white spots clouding her vision.

But she must keep moving.

She doesn't know why, just knows that she must.

She comes to a road, and tries to cross.

The step is larger than she though, and she stumbles, jarring her tortured frame, setting in motion a downward trajectory.

Another moment passes, and she is crawling, reaching desperately for the pavement.

Somehow, she rights herself.

And then she hears them; footsteps.

And she remembers; she remembers that harsh voice, those malicious words: "I'll be back."

Panic floods her veins; tears stream down her face.

She starts to run, although to any third party it is more of a lurching motion than anything else.

Her body is doubled over in pain, air leaving her body faster than she can draw it in.

Momentum drives her, her battered legs barely able to hold her weight, let alone keep up with her staggering motions.

She coughs, wheezing and spluttering as she sinks to her knees, arms curled tightly around her torso.

A final moment moves by, longer than its predecessors.

And before she is even somewhat aware of what she is doing, her closed fist is coming down deserately on a familiar door.

And as time passes, and the pain begins to overwhelm her, her hand opens, exhaustedly rapping on the wooden barrier.

"Please," she begs silently.

And then, there is light, brighter than she has ever seen before.

The door is flung open, and her body, which had been restinng heavily against the sturdy frame, falls forward, knees buckling.

Strong hands are upon her, guiding her gently to the floor beneath her feet.

She hears her name, gasped out in terror.

It sounds distant, though.

A million miles away.

It is the last thing she hears before the darkness takes hold.

Her name.

"Jane."

**A/N: Please R&R.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thankyou to everyone who read the first chapter. I am a live-in nanny to four kids under five, so updates will take a while. But they will happen.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: NIGHTMARES AND NON-DESCRIPT MENTIONS OF ASSAULT**

The edges of my vision are clouded, as if inside my head a thick fog has just rolled in. the room is dark, this much I can tell.

Dark and dank.

Water drips from rotting pipes as stale air ghosts over my face.

And that is when I feel it; feel him.

His body is flush against mine, his face mere inches from my own.

I can feel him, but not see him.

My eyes will not open.

There is movement on top of me.

He is closer now, his hot breath right next to my ear.

And then a voice, one that instantly sends a chill down my spine.

"Jane," the man breathes.

I am paralysed, fear rocking me to the core.

"I know you're awake. I can smell it."

I wait for him to say it, to confirm what I already know.

"Lavender and fear."

Hoyt.

"Open your eyes, Janie," he coos. "I wouldn't want you to miss the show."

Against my better judgement my eyelids slowly crack apart, allowing the dullest of lights to filter in through the darkness.

And then I see him, looming over me.

The Surgeon.

My very own Grim Reaper.

And before I can stop it, a whimper escapes my lips.

"Oh Janie," he sighs. "I missed you."

Bile rises in my throat as he reaches behind him. If I had my wits about me I would have thought to move, but as it stands, I am not syre I could have.

My limbs feel trapped. A quick inspection reveals no tape; no bindings.

'Move, Jane,' I tell myself. 'Move.'

When Hoyt turns back my blood runs cold.

Scalpel.

That's all I can see.

His scalpel and that demonic smile.

"Take a deep breath now, Janie," he sneers, raising the weapon.

Panic burns white hot in my veins.

'Move!' my mind screams. 'God-dammit! MOVE!'

It's no use.

Hoyt draws in a slow, deliberate breath, eyes closed, scalpel raised just above his head.

"Move," I hear myself beg.

And then it plummets, piercing my left palm just as suddenly as my scream pierces the air.

…

What starts as muffled moans and slight twitching soon becomes whimpered pleas and spasmodic movements as the full weight of the nightmare bears down on the detective.

Awaking with a start, there is a moment of complete stillness before Jane propels herself forward. In the same motion she frantically scoots backward until her back is flush against the headboard.

Her eyes move rapidly, desperately searching for ghosts of the past, while her left hand seeks the light switch.

Seconds bleed into minutes as the shaken woman curls in on herself, still sweating profusely.

Nimble fingers worry over raised scars, soothing away the cramps that always follow sleep.

As always, her hands hurt.

It is 3:02am and her hands hurt.

It is 3:06 am and she has stopped sweating.

It is 3:08a, and she has started shivering.

It is 3:11am and she has decided to go for a run.

...

Seven miles later and Jane could finally feel the anxiety seeping from her pores and dripping from her body, in much the same fashion as the sweat pouring from her furrowed brow.

Her late-night pilgrimage had taken her from Revere, through Charlestown and finally to the Boston Garden in the North End. From here, she could see the edges of Beacon Hill, and the start of the Boston Common, her destination tonight.

She had made good time, her legs using pent up emotion as fuel. A little over an hour had past since her sudden awakening and she felt almost as good as new.

Stopping by the Make Way for Ducklings statue to stretch, Jane was reminded why this was one of the favourite places on Earth.

During the day, when tourists lines these paths, joining queues for swan boat rides while children chased squirrels and locals walked their dogs, these gardens came alive.

And at night, when most of the city was sleeping, the Gardens were at peace.

Jane was at peace.

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp Bostonian air, the detective started to walk toward the Common.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed the man who followed her over the crosswalk, nor did she take note of his gradual movement to close the space between them.

And when she did, well, by then it was far too late.

**A/N: Just a short fill-in chapter. Hope it was enjoyable.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Second chapter in a day – rainy days are apparently good for productivity!**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND ILLUSIONS TO RAPE**

When a taser gun is fired, two probes shoot out and attach to the subject before delivering an electric shock to the victim, incapacitating them. The shock caused by the voltage can cause muscle contracture and significant pain, causing a complete loss of balance in most cases. However, the problem does not lie in the loss of balance or the fall, but in the individual's inability to regain balance or break their fall.

And this is exactly where Jane Rizzoli's problems start. Those two probes rendering her completely incapable of stopping her rapid descent. Her body hits the pavement hard, her nose smacking into the asphalt, pain immediately sprouting behind her eyes, causing tears to spill down her face.

It only lasts a few seconds before she passes out, but it is enough to last a lifetime.

The man who caused this damage moves quickly, pulling her off the path and through a clump of bushes to an alcove where their presence will be sheltered from any other early risers. He removes the probes, and secures a zip tie around the detective's wrists, before attaching another one to the base of one of the shrubs, ensuring that she will not be able to escape until he was ready for her to.

And then, he waits.

It is not long before she begins to stir, eyes opening lazily before once again falling closed.

This dance lasts a few minutes before her eyes stay open, seemingly searching for something to ground her. Eventually, they fall on his face, and he finally sees some inkling of panic behind those hooded lids.

And that is when she attempts to move.

Painful as it proves to be, Jane's ministrations only intensify when she realises that she is bound, however in her current physical state, any movements that she does make are lethargic at best.

Lethargic and futile.

And then, almost as if a switch has been flipped, the tugs to her bindings and the twisting of her body become more forceful; more violent; more desperate.

This is when the man smiles.

His prey is ready.

But so is he.

Moving quickly he straddles the lithe body of the detective, pinning her hips to the ground. He pulls a knife from his belt, holding it to her throat.

Her movements cease almost as quickly as they started, her body shrinking away from him and into the damp ground below.

He leans in close, putrid breath washing over her face.

"Make a sound and I'll slit your throat," he sneers.

And for once in her life, she listens.

He doesn't give her a second more to think over this threat before fastening a piece of duct tape over her mouth, pulling it from a canvas backpack he had tossed to one side.

Jane wondered for a moment if she was simply a victim of opportunity, or a specific target, however movement atop of her drew her from her thoughts.

Using the knife in his hand, the man scratched a trail from the nape of the detective's neck, across the curve of her breasts and down to her stomach. The blade left a thin trail of blood on the exposed skin it had touched, but failed to cut through the old t-shirt she was wearing.

"Okay," he smirks. "Let's have some fun."

**A/N: Another filler chapter for you. The next chapter will be the hardest for me to write, so bear with me. Hope you enjoyed.**


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